


Normally I'm so Strong

by precious_passenger (orphan_account)



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-16
Updated: 2014-05-16
Packaged: 2018-01-25 01:01:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1623332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/precious_passenger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is my chicken soup collection, small one-shots I write that bubble from my mind and I have to get it out. Drabbles focused on Kurt and Blaine. Ranging from humor to angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Some people thought that keeping a diary might be a girly thing, but Kurt Hummel wasn’t exactly the poster boy for masculinity and he couldn’t care less what people thought of him. He liked to think that he’d been always interested in keeping a notebook as his friend was because he’d been generally lonely, in school and home.

But, his diary had been with him in his best and worst days. The first person, or well, object, he’d came out to was his diary. He could remember the entry very clearly. _“Dear Diary, I’m going to tell you something. Promise you won’t hate me? I’m gay.”_

First he did it out of curiosity, to find out what all the fuss was about. He wrote because he thought that it might fight off diseases like Alzheimer’s when he got old. And then he was hooked on the thing. Counting the seconds until his homework was down and he could write down about his day. He’d spent many boring lessons plotting the entry for that day. It was practically a life-saver.

There were also moments that were so intense for him to put it into words so he’d just leave that day empty. Like the day Finn hurt him with his harsh words, his dad was in come or Karofsky had…

Which was why he’d felt so deeply violated when he found Blaine in his dorm room at Dalton, sitting in the bedroom and turning the pages of his most beloved possession next to his scarves…and boots.

“Blaine? What are you doing?” he squeaked, feeling his knees give out.

Blaine looked at him like a deer in the headlights. Then a corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk.

“Kurt, is that true that you think a dream date should be a marathon of old French movies?”

Kurt stared at him incredulously. Blaine had read his diary, not only that, but he was making fun of them, too. His most private thoughts. And Kurt was sure if Blaine had turned the other page of notebook, he’d meet a rather impressive collection of ‘Blaine and Kurt’ filled hearts.

Tears started spilling on his cheeks and he scrubbed them away angrily.

“Get out,” he tried to keep his volume but it turned out louder than he intended, making Blaine flinch.

“Hey, that’s okay,” Blaine hurried to amend, “I thought we were friends and we could do this. The thing was lying around in your bed. I’m sorry, but I got curious.”

“This _thing_ ” Kurt said, ripping the book away from Blaine’s hand, “had been my friend more years than you have. I thought you’d understand.”

Blaine stared at him mouth open in shock.

“Just get out, please?” Kurt said tiredly, “I need a moment.”

Blaine exited the room, looking ashamed and scolded. Kurt refused to acknowledge the pang of guilt he felt at putting that look on his friend’s face.

A knock on the door came out moments later, revealing Blaine looking rather disheveled in his doorstep. Before Kurt could ask what’s wrong he went down on one knee, presenting a book with a pink cover.

“Kurt Hummel,” he announced solemnly, “I’ve been an idiot. Just because I don’t have a problem with you knowing my thoughts and struggles doesn’t mean that you should too. This is the token I offer from the damage I did to our friendship.”

Kurt took the book and turned over the first page.

_Blaine Anderson’s Journal._

“This doesn’t fix everything,” Kurt added, trying not to look as touched as he felt. Sure, Blaine was a ridiculous idiot, but he was Kurt’s best friend and he couldn’t stay too mad.

“I know.” Blaine said wistfully.

“Well, get up then. You have to give me the backstory on all the things you wrote here,” he held up the book and grinned evilly. Blaine held back a sigh. This was going to be a long night.


	2. Chapter 2

Kurt woke up by the sound of the alarm clock buzzing loudly beside him. He turned it off immediately and sighed, wishing that he could sleep and wake up the next day, or any other day for that matter.

But, he had work to do, subjects to study and he had to put up with the craziness of one Rachel Berry all day. And it was supposed to be _his_ birthday.

To tell the truth, Kurt wasn’t that big at celebrating anything, let alone birthdays. To be honest, he was a bit surprised. When he was in high school, the thought of even being alive at twenty wasn’t something he could imagine. Especially when the only wish he had on blowing candles was, _‘No more candles next year._ ’ It was kind of a double meaning thing and Kurt felt a sick sort of satisfaction at wanting himself not to exist for his next birthday.

Kurt packed his bag and practically ran for the door, avoiding Rachel’s cheerful attempt to sing him a ‘happy birthday’ song, for the fifth time since he woke up.

He stopped at the first coffee shop he saw on his way, not really in the mood to go the extra distance it took to his favorite café. It felt too cheerful and Kurt wanted to go to a place and brood and mope over his existence.

What was he doing exactly? Twenty and not really living. Doing enough each day just to get by, deluding himself that he was useful.

And the most embarrassing of it all was his total lack of experience in dating department. The only romance he’d really had was the single kiss he’d forcefully gotten from his high school bully.

“Are you ready to order, cutie?”

Kurt looked up to meet the strangely piercing gaze of the barista. Kurt glanced away immediately, blushing for some reason. He tried to read the tag to read the boy’s name but it was sewn weirdly, almost as if…

“You wore your apron inside out,” Kurt snapped, rolling his eyes.

“You really are a ray of sunshine,” the boy told with a rivaling sarcasm but then it seemed that Kurt’s word sunk in after a while.

“What?” he gaped at him before looking down, “shit, you’re right. So, make up your mind on what you want to order while I get myself fixed.”

Then he started to take off the apron and struggled to fix it. It was now Kurt’s turn to be shocked.

“Relax, no one is here,” he assured, “my boss is sleeping in the back and we usually don’t have any customers here this hour. Especially on a Sunday.” He pointed at the empty seats.

“So, what brings your cute ass in this forsaken coffee shop?” Blaine’s voice came muffled by the apron over his head.

It was the first time someone so blatantly flirted with him and Kurt was getting flustered by each passing second.

“I’m virgin,” Kurt blurted out, saying the first thing that was on his mind. The boy’s eyebrows went so high, it was almost hidden behind the thick mop of hair.

“And I’m Blaine. Not that I don’t like the way this is going, but perhaps you should buy me coffee first before the quickie?” he asked playfully.

“Listen, Blaine. Umm, I’m not having the best day. My mind’s not really functioning. I can’t wait for today to be over.”

Blaine immediately turned serious and understanding, nodding.

“Well, if you ask me, sex is overrated. Sticking your dick inside a random chick’s pussy? Not that much of a life shattering moment,” he said nonchalantly.

Kurt choked and started coughing. The barista smirked, pleased with the result.

“Finding out in less than a week that you’re gay, however, was one hell of a shattering moment. Both for me and the girl I was fucking at the time.”

Kurt had gone to a deep shade of red and couldn’t look Blaine in the eye.

“So, why is today a bad day?” he asked sympathetically.

“I’m turning twenty,” Kurt said, hiding his face behind his hands.

“Hey,” the other boy said, pulling out a chair and sitting across from him, “I suppose you’re not happy about it?”

Kurt nodded.

“I don’t feel like it’s a reason to celebrate. I’m getting older and closer to die than I was in the previous year. So, what’s so happy and special about that?”

“Well, Kurt, I personally think that you should try to live every moment and be happy. But, since I don’t think that point of view would really suit you I have another idea. Tell you what? Don’t let it get to you.”

“And let the people around me be happy for trying to make me happy?” Kurt asked, intrigued.

“Exactly. You can do the normal things and find comfort in it. Like right now, I should be giving you a free muffin since it’s your birthday, but I won’t. So there you go, have a normal birthday.”

Blaine shifted closer to him, his eyes nearly hypnotizing, “and I was planning to ask you out on a date, but I can’t have you ditch on your studies and work or whatever you plan to do.”

“But,” Kurt whined, “it’s my…”

“Birthday?” Blaine cut him off, “yeah, so what? It’s a day like any other. My shift will end in two o’clock. What about lunch, on you, birthday boy?”

Kurt rolled his eyes, but smiled nevertheless, “deal.”


	3. Chapter 3

Kurt had just been putting the finishing touches on his homework when his phone rang. He frowned when he saw the number. It was Blaine, which was odd considering Blaine was living in the same building. It had been one of the many perks of transferring to Dalton. Kind teachers and polite students, no more bullying….and Blaine in the walking distance from him.

“Hello?” Kurt picked up the phone. What he didn’t expect was the squeaky, terrified sound coming from the other side.

“Kurt, hey. How are you?”

“Blaine, what’s wrong?” he asked, alarmed.

“Umm, the thing is…David doesn’t come back until the curfew and I really gotta pee…” Blaine trailed off the rest, mumbling to himself.

“I don’t see what the problem is,” Kurt said, baffled, “unless David should take you to the restroom and sing you a peeing song. I know we’re friends but that’s a line I’m not gonna cross.”

“No, it’s not that. There’s a cockroach in my room and I’m standing on my bed.”

“What?” Kurt asked, thinking that this was some sort of prank call.

“He’s moving his antenna thingies and circling over the bed,” Blaine replied, genuinely terrified. Then he yelped. “Kurt, help.”

“Can you throw something, like a shoe at it?”

“I don’t want to kill it,” Blaine answered.

_Of course not._

“Oh, for the love of…” Kurt trailed off and started pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Okay, can you put something on top of it until I come?”

“Like what?”

“A hat, a bottle. I don’t know. Use your endless imagination, Blaine Warbler,” he rolled his eyes and turned off the phone, preparing to jog towards Blaine’s room.

His phone rang again.

“What?” Kurt picked up the phone, exasperated.

“Don’t hang up the phone. Talk to me!” Blaine said in a miserable voice that would have Kurt’s sympathy if it wasn’t over something entirely ridiculous.

So Kurt did until he entered Blaine’s room. He saw there were pillows everywhere. Blaine was standing on top of the bedpost, shivering. The intruding cockroach had been caught under a glass. Kurt rolled his eyes and took off one shoe, getting ready to crush the thing.

“Don’t kill it!” Blaine begged.

“Blaine, is it really necessary to show your animal rights side now?” he sighed.

“I don’t want you to kill Sirius!” Blaine replied sorrowfully.

“Blaine, did you just…” Kurt couldn’t stop laughing now, “name the cockroach after a Harry Potter character?”

“Maybe?” Blaine answered, trying not to blush too hard.

“Oh, Blaine. You’re a silly and adorable idiot.”

Kurt shook his head and went over the plans in his head on how to get the cockroach out without hurting it. He opened the window and approached the glass, tilting it to a side.

“Hey, Mr. Sirius. This crybaby over here wants you to leave. Can you do that for us?” he sing-songed, picking up a paper and guiding the animal with another one to climb on it. Then he picked the paper up and dropped it out of the window.

When he assured the boy several times that the cockroach was gone, Blaine darted to the bathroom not coming out for several long minutes. Finally the door opened and Blaine exited.

“My hero!” Blaine cheered, a wide grin on his face.

“Yes, your personal bodyguard, slash exterminator. Ready at your service.”

But, Blaine was looking so relieved that he didn’t note the sentence was dripping in sarcasm.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely and pecked Kurt lightly on the cheek, making Kurt’s mind short-circuit.

“Okay,” he said after snapping out of daze, “see you tomorrow.”

“Where are you going?” Blaine asked, his eyes wide.

“My room?”

“What if he comes back?” Blaine said, terrified. Kurt had gone speechless.

“Stay with me until David comes back. Please?”

Kurt resisted the kicked puppy eyes Blaine was giving him.

“Oh, come on, Blaine. You’re a grown up boy.” Kurt said, stomping angrily out of the room, with Blaine trailing close behind.

They reached Kurt’s room only to find that in his haste, Kurt had forgotten his keys. So, they headed back, waiting for Wes, his roommate to return.

David and Wes had found the room with the two teens cuddled together in the bed and sleeping. Blaine had his arms around Kurt and shifted closer as they watched, placing his head on Kurt’s chest.

“Aww,” David cooed, “they can’t stay away from each other.”

“So freaking adorable,” Wes agreed.


	4. Chapter 4

Blaine stomped in the loft, angry and trembling. He didn't come to New York to be treated like this. It was supposed to be different, only it hurt more.

Because plain and simple, Blaine was being bullied. And no one knew, or cared. Well, that's not entirely true because he knows that Kurt does. He has to, right? He lets him stay at the loft he shared with Rachel and allows him to curl himself into a ball in the bed, desperately clinging to comfort the safe, strong arms provided.

It started one day when Blaine had excitedly blurted out the answer to the question his professor had barely asked.

"Show-off," the girl sitting behind him muttered.

It continued to go on just the same. Each time Blaine volunteered to do something or tried to do his best, he would be beaten down by harsh words.

So, he stopped trying. He didn't burst into a song in the middle of the room or jumped on furniture. Hell, he stopped wearing those clothes that were considered too flashy and eye-catching, because he was constantly criticized for them too.

He was too ashamed to say anything or complain. But each time he would die of embarrassment each time he saw someone pointed at him in the hallway. The worst was when Blaine was with Kurt. People in NYADA adored Kurt after the performance he gave at Midnight Madness. The looks that they gave him when they saw him walking hand in hand clearly said that 'what is he doing with _him?_ '

No, he couldn't say any of this to Kurt. Because Kurt had been dealing with being taunted all through high school. Hell, he even went back to that hellhole that had done nothing but abuse to him, only to be with his friends. Kurt was strong. He, on the other hand, was nothing but a failure.

Tears trickled down his face and he wiped them away angrily. He was weak. That's it. Blaine Anderson was weak. A shame.

His emotions were all over the place. The silent loft was the perfect contrast to the storm that was welling up inside him. He didn't know which emotion would win and surface, leaving nothing but destruction on its way. He could feel anger sizzling, his hands balling to fists in result. Self-loathing and crumbling depression followed next. But, the winner was sadness. Deep, bone-deep sadness.

So, Blaine had lied on the couch, hiding his face in the pillows and crying for several long minutes. Ugly tears and moans, similar to a wounded animal were the only sounds filling the room.

And then, there was a click of the lock and the sound of the door opening and almost instantly, warm hand covered his shoulders.

"Blaine? Sweetheart?"

Kurt's gentle tone only made the pain dig sharper to his chest and Blaine shook his head, unable to speak. He wasn't a sweetheart, he was _disgusting._

"Look at me!" it was a tone of command, with a hint of fear and Blaine didn't want to hear Kurt afraid. So, he unwrapped himself from the pillows he was clutching and rolled around, facing Kurt.

"Hey, it's okay. Blaine, look at me. It's okay." Kurt said softly and guided Blaine to his lap, cradling his head like an infant's. Blaine bit the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out.

A torrent of words flowed from Kurt's gently rubbing his back. Apologies were repeated over and over. And Kurt would kiss each of them away. Saying that Kurt loved him and anything that had happened they would deal with it together.

Soon, Blaine would find his words again and explain everything and Kurt would be furious. The next day, they would confront the bullies, together. Kurt would threaten to end his friendship with the ones that had treated Blaine like a piece of garbage, unless they apologize and make a visible effort to accept Blaine.

Blaine wouldn't care anymore that people sneered at him in the classes or nobody would want to be in the same group as him, because every day, Kurt would find ways to make him happy and have him laughing by the end.


	5. Chapter 5

"Her lips tasted like…cherry. And chocolate cookies. Man, I love chocolate cookies. Kurt, do you have some chocolate cookies?" Blaine slurred, picking up random objects from Kurt's dresser and laughing giddily at every single one of them.

"No," Kurt answered patiently, grabbing the little statue off the table and putting it out of Blaine's grasp so he wouldn't break it. Blaine pouted when he couldn't reach the statue and grabbed a stuffed toy instead, dancing around with it around the room, singing some Disney tune. Kurt ran after him, trying to calm the boy down. He didn't want his father to enter his room and see his best friend, plastered and nearly unconscious. The same friend who he couldn't stop talking about him, no matter how many times Burt tried to stop him. Kurt remembered describing Blaine as 'mature' and 'polite'.

"Yaay," Blaine launched himself to Kurt's bed, swaying slightly.

"Can you give me Rachel's number, Kurt? I want to call her and tell her how much I loved kissing her." Blaine asked when Kurt had sat him upright.

Before Kurt could attempt to reason with the drunken boy, Blaine rolled on the bed, pulling Kurt with him. Kurt landed on Blaine with a loud oomph and tried to roll himself off the boy immediately. He didn't want to cause another gagging and throwing up session by the toilet. But Blaine didn't seem to mind and instead tightened his hold around Kurt and sighed dreamily.

"I can't wait to see her again. Should I wear my Warblers' uniform to our first date, Kurt? I want to take her home and kiss her face then her eyelids and then her lips."

Kurt bit his lip and forced himself not to loosen his hold on the boy or flinch away. Because _that_ hurt like hell. It was one thing that he was reminded each day of the fact that he couldn’t have Blaine and he was nothing more than a friend. But, to have Blaine want after somebody like that had been brutal. It felt as if his happy ending depended on this boy and he was stomping all over Kurt's heart.

Kurt had wanted to dump Blaine back in the Dalton. Hell, he would've done it if it wasn't way past curfew.

_No you wouldn't, silly._

Because Kurt was a masochist, really. He had declined Finn's offer to let Blaine sleep in his room and claimed that taking care of the boy was his responsibility. Of course, Blaine belting out to a really off-key version of 'Teenage Dream' had ended their argument pretty quickly.  

"What's wrong, Kurt?" Blaine asked with such gentle voice that made Kurt want to kick something or cry, he hadn't decided on which yet.

"Nothing. Nothing is wrong…" he rushed to reassure the boy.

"We can find someone to kiss it better for you," he told solemnly, then broke into a grin, "like Rachel did…for me."

Kurt let a tear slip at that. At that moment, he wished that he was drunk too. Maybe if he was drunk he'd have the courage to kiss Blaine and remove the image of Rachel's gross lips from his memory. Maybe if he'd been drunk and more carefree at the party, Blaine could finally love him back.

"Night night, Kurt. Love ya!"

"Love you too," his voice broke in the end and he felt a jolt of happiness when Blaine snuggled beside him, burrowing his head on Kurt's chest. Maybe Blaine did love him. Maybe he wouldn't sleep with a broken heart.

But Blaine was already asleep.


	6. With You (I Can Feel Again)

Progress isn't waking up one day and realize everything you've ever known, every problem you had was now gone and replaced by a fairytale version of happily ever after. There is no happy ending, well, at least not in this world. You shouldn't compare your situation with others, because they hadn't had the exact experiences Kurt had.

It was realizing that getting the tenth score in the class didn't mean that he was a failure and should consider giving up. But, try and see that it also meant that he was better than the rest of the thirty students.

Progress wasn't living his life Ambien-free, but the fact that he got a good night's sleep most of the nights thanks to it.

They'd gotten out of the doctor's office with their arms around each other and Kurt feels like he can breathe again. He'd been hurt and almost terrified when Burt told him to stop worrying about the color of his clothes. But, right now, at this moment, nothing was more important that his family, from his own flesh and blood would be alive. Carole called Finn on the phone right after they got out, as she'd promised the teen that she'd tell him the doctor's examination results as soon as they know. They are all laughing and crying, their voices mixing together to create a bunch of incoherent words. But, Finn understood and soon they can hear cheers coming from the other side of the phone.

Carole and Burt kiss and keep on crying happy tears until they're escorted out of the hospital by a nurse who didn't seem to get their overjoyed exclaims.

But, the edginess is still present inside Kurt and he's almost glued to his father's side, watching him, alive and breathing, no longer slowly fading away... cured.

The relief and love that floods Kurt the remaining days of the stay was indescribable.

Blaine comes to the house to visit Burt after a while, having texted Kurt beforehand to receive the good news and asking permission to visit them. Blaine has been overjoyed lately by the marriage equality in New York and Kurt can't help but feel a bit depressed that the one he used to dream to have this experience with, getting married in New York, is nothing more than a fantasy.

Kurt remembers the months after breaking up with Blaine. How much he hated himself, how he wanted nothing more than cry. There were days that he'd wake up and stay in his bed, just cry until about an hour or so, and still feel like it isn't enough. Kurt wanted to cry until his eyes were burning, until sleep would come and take the pain away. He was mourning his lost love and the future he planned and that hurt.

But then, he got better at handling it. He'd have punched anyone who had the audacity to comfort him with the overly cliché expression of 'time heals everything' but to an extent time was the thing that made him grieve and then attempt to pull himself back together. Burt had always told him that he was strong and in Kurt's opinion that was a burden he'd have to carry. He wanted nothing more than to stop fighting and just be normal, give up on NYADA, no more boyfriends, no more Blaine…But, the feeling of hurt and utter pain dissipated with time and his head cleared.

He'd wake up each morning and gave himself a pep talk in front of the mirror. Rachel Berry-style.

Only he wasn't looking for confidence to give the most important performance of his life, he was just trying to convince himself to start to love himself.

_You are beautiful, you are strong and you are loved._

These were the three sentences he'd repeat to himself every morning and one day he started to believe it, if not hundred percent, but maybe about seventy nine percent. One day, after receiving a bad critique it was barely twenty percent, but there were days when he was praised or someone appreciated his talent by saying something simple it was as if his heart soared to the sky, it was a full ninety percent and he truly believed that he was beautiful, strong and loved.

Then his father fell ill and the news had been the reason he slipped from his self-made recovery. Being away from dad and not getting enough updates fast enough had slowly triggered his anxiety to a level that he'd turned to some questionable tendencies to comfort himself.

But now, Kurt drew the annoying voice to the back of his mind, the one that told him the contents of his lunch weren't color coordinated or how his shoes weren't tied three times. He knew it would be back, but counted the moment as a small victory.

When Blaine arrived, he and Kurt had hugged for several long minutes, Kurt drawing even more comfort not from his ex-boyfriend, but his best friend…Blaine kept rubbing circles on his back, uneven from the emotion they were both experiencing from the proximity.

Kurt didn't allow himself to think or dwell. He held onto him for one moment longer and for the first time in forever saw the color of Blaine's eyes, how it shined with affection and focused on the shape of his nose….then his lips, it seemed that he had forgotten the color of every part of Blaine and now he was here, bright and colorful.

And it was beautiful.

Kurt knew he had to preserve this moment, of seeing light and color so he leaned down and pecked Blaine lightly on the lips and leaned his head against Blaine's shoulder.

_Friends do kiss._

He chuckled to himself and took Blaine's hand, guiding him to the kitchen to meet Burt.


	7. Chapter 7

Kurt had been visiting the attic more often than usual after his dad's heart attack. The possibility of losing the only parent he had made him long for the one that wasn't there. Also, he'd spied on Burt practicing proposal speeches and knew that his moments with his dad were starting to be spent more with Carole. Simply he missed his mom so much.

He'd opened the scrapbook and turned the pages, from his first dance recital to the day he was born. As he went back, the pictures were getting older. He stopped as he reached a page, holding it closer in his lap.

It showed his mom and along with a group of her friends attending some sort of rally. He liked that photo so much because his mom was laughing as she held a poster, the photo capturing her face so well. Now she was forever laughing in that photo. She seemed so happy. Kurt wished he'd appreciated it more when he was a kid.

He stroked her face with his finger a little too roughly, thanks to the tears that seemed to be ever present in his face nowadays. The movement caused the photo to spiral to the floor, landing beside the remains of the bottle of perfume.

What captured Kurt's attention, what he hadn't noticed after all these years, was the small note in his mother's handwriting.

 _Straight pride_ _1987_ , the back of the photo said.

At first it was denial, _this is not what I think it is._ Then a gut wrenching sense of loneliness and ache filled him, making it hard to breathe. He took two steps at a time, reaching his room and closing the door forcefully before collapsing on his bed.

Typing _that_ into his search engine took all the energy he had and the results that came up silenced that voice inside wishing it wasn't what he thought it was.

Dozens of photos of different rallies came in the images. Articles stating dates and places and the history of this movement. The logo, the one that now Kurt realized was the one his mom carried, was of a man and a woman holding hands.

He felt a stabbing pain in his chest and he held the throbbing spot tighter. He let the photo that caused all of this heartache fall beside him on the bed.

"Kurt, son. Are you…what's wrong?"

Before he knows it Burt was holding him tightly to his chest. He felt so vulnerable and tried to scramble out of the grip his dad had on him. He can't let anyone touching him after knowing the fact that his mom wouldn't accept him had she been alive. That he couldn't ever change her mind and lost the opportunity of making her happy with who he was.

"Mom doesn't love me," he sobs.

"What? Come on, son. What are you talking about?" Burt is puzzled and frankly, quite worried.

How can his dad expect him to pick himself up after this blow? The one brick he'd based his whole foundation on had shattered. He silently held the photo to his dad before bursting to a fresh round of tears again.

Burt finally separates him of his bone crushing hug, looking ashamed. But, to Kurt, it looks like he's ashamed of him, of who he'd become.

It wasn't his fault, was it? He'd tried being straight and failed miserably. He couldn't do that one thing right.

A sudden realization dawned on him and he whispered brokenly.

"You were there too, weren't you?"

When Burt nods, Kurt recoils, moving away and hugging his knees to his chest. He'd never felt so alone in his life and starts sobbing in earnest.

"I told you there are some moments in my past that I'm not that proud of, kiddo," Burt starts, looking down, "but, when I held you in my arms, I knew I would love you no matter what. Your mother did too. We were so happy to have that little beautiful kid in our lives."

Kurt shook his head, no longer believing. It didn't make him love his mother less, but to know that she might've thought the opposite wrecked him. Being gay wasn't the only part of him but he wondered if his mother would've thought the same.

"Your mother _loved_ you. She joined you in your tea parties. Let you put makeup on her and order her what to dress in parties. She wiped your tears when a group of boys threw you in the pond because you designed your own shirt and had glitter on it. She raised hell in school for that," Burt said, letting his own tears fall.

"I am so so sorry, Kurt," he said, voice rough from holding in the tears, "we had been so ignorant but you've shown us, even when you were just a little kid, you thought us how to love in a way that we didn't think was possible."

"I forgive you," Kurt says, because how could he not?

"I'm proud of you, son," he says, squeezing his leg.

"Me too, dad. Me too," is what Kurt says before throwing himself like a little kid to his father's lap.


End file.
